Year of the Spark: September 27 to 28
by Sparky Army
Summary: One last look was all they had to convey everything unsaid. Tag for "Ghost in the Machine".
1. Part I

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**We, the Sparky Army, decree 2008 to be the Year of the Spark. We pledge to post a new sparky story or chapter of a sparky story every day from January 1, 2008 to December 31, 2008. Though the Powers that Be have removed Elizabeth Weir from the regular cast of Stargate Atlantis, we feel that she remains an integral part of the show, and that the relationship between her and John Sheppard is too obvious to be ignored. We hope that you, and anyone might happen to read these works, agree.  
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**And if that isn't official enough for you, we don't know what is. Seriously, guys, we're just trying to have some fun--and show TPTB that Sparky is the way to go. So sit back and enjoy the 366 stories coming your way! **

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Dear Readers,

_To make up for the delay in fics (which is partly my fault...but I just started college and my schedule has thrown me off so much), I've decided to take on both the 29th and the 30th (which was my day anyway). It's a two-parter based on the part in "Ghost in the Machine" when "Liz" looks at John for the last time before walking through the gate. Chapter one is in Liz's POV. Hope you enjoy. (I highly suggest listening to "One Last Look" from the soundtrack of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events or any other music composed by Thomas Newman while reading this, since it really fits the mood and I got the title from the LSSUE track). _

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SAVE SGA fanatic),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P and her muses _

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**_One Last Look_**

**_Part I_**

One last look.

One final glance, one final smile before she walked into darkness, nothing, a void. One last time to give him peace, reassurance, before it all spiraled downward.

One last time to speak without words.

The eyes were not hers, nor was the face on which the smile curved, transmitting unspoken desires, unfulfilled wishes. It felt foreign. She felt as if some part of her identity had been withheld from her, although it was merely a body. Maybe it was difficult for her to adjust because she had been without one for so long. It was odd, finally having something tangible to connect to her mind, something to will to move and act, to use to put into practice what she had held so long inside that abstract consciousness.

She wanted to hold him again.

But it wasn't her.

It was her mind, her soul, her love. But the love could never be manifested in the same way. At least, he wouldn't be able to sense it. She would, but because of that tragic discrepancy between body and soul, he would never understand, not if this was not a real part of her.

But eyes were a different matter. Windows to the soul. They weren't her eyes, she knew, but if one opened a window wide enough, sufficient light could shine through. And she knew he would understand that.

So it was all she could do. Open the windows and let the light glow upon him, passing love from one to the other. His face remained stern, unmoving, guilty, angry. But she could see the small flicker of peace ignite in his own eyes before she turned and walked through, carrying the rest of the light with her.

But at the same time, she had given all the light to him. It was the only thing that would keep him alive through the drudgery of a world without her.

So she gave him one last look.

One last look before she ripped her face away from his, leaving him to carry the light on his own.


	2. Part II

_Dear Readers,_

_Okay, here's the second part, from John's POV. Sorry for the angst! But I had to write something on this scene. At least this one has somewhat of a happier ending._

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SAVE SGA fanatic),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

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_**Part II**_

One last look.

One final glance, one final smile before she walked into darkness, nothing, a void. One last time to give him peace, reassurance, before it all spiraled downward.

One last time to speak without words.

She didn't look like her, sound like her, or even _smell _like her. But it was her nonetheless, and he could sense that with a fierce definitiveness. From the outset, he had always had the tiniest flicker of a doubt, but some part of him had latched onto the truth of her words the minute he had seen the first of them upon that computer screen. Maybe he was too desperate. Maybe he was more broken from having lost her than he was yet willing to admit, and maybe that was why he truly believed that the stranger standing before him was really _her_.

But it was. He _knew_ it was. He just knew.

He didn't know how or why he had this knowledge, this determined belief in the validity of her identity. True, she had saved his life. But it was more than that, much more than that. There was something inherent in that displaced consciousness that made it a part of her, that convinced him that she could be no one else inside that temporary cage of a body.

And there was peace.

Complete and utter peace.

He didn't understand it. Nor had he ever really understood how she had oftentimes made the decision to accept things as they were. He was a fighter, a fighter to the bitter end, and at first he had come to see her resignation as a sign of defeat, of weakness. But it had come to his realization eventually that she had often been more resilient in strife than he would ever be, because he knew he would always struggle against the antagonist even if that only made things worse. He knew that she had always been wiser than he was, that she had had better discernment and better patience. He had come to respect that in her. But he still didn't completely comprehend it, especially now.

She turned and locked her eyes with his. Well, they weren't her eyes. But they seemed to be hers for just a split second, and then it struck him.

She was giving everything up for a lie. She was letting them betray her, entrap her, imprison her in coldness and deceit. But she loved them just the same because it _was_ her. All was forgiven, no matter how undeserving and cruel they were. And that was exactly the way she had always been.

His face hardened as her gaze penetrated his. It wasn't fair, what they were doing to her, and that she knew precisely that she was walking to her doom. It wasn't fair that she of all people, who trusted them beyond all measure, loved them beyond all measure, was once again falling on the wrong side of the line.

It wasn't fair that she still loved him, even though he was allowing them to do this to her.

He was the guilty one. But as he looked into her eyes, something seemed to pass between them that for a moment froze every despairing feeling within him until there was nothing left but her and her soul, connecting with his. And for that one moment, he knew that it was all right somehow. Or that it would be.

And then her eyes tore away from his, and the connection was lost.

He kept his face tight, staring intently at the empty spot where she had been standing seconds before. Gone. Gone again, and this time she had been so close.

But he at least had her one last look. One last look that he would treasure forever in the depths of his heart, one last look that would resonate through every part of his being until the day when he knew he would meet her again.


End file.
